


The prophecy and the prize

by sluttysavitri



Category: Indian Mythology, Mahabharata, Palace of Illusions
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sluttysavitri/pseuds/sluttysavitri
Summary: A deep dive into some of the romantic relationships within the great Indian epic, The Mahabharata. This is a work of fiction and not meant to be disrespectful, but your epic faves will be getting down and dirty so you should put on your big boy pants (or take them off) before proceeding.





	1. A moment alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panchali gets an opportunity to be better acquainted with herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reimagination, which tries to be canon when it can. But won’t let ‘facts’ come in the way of a good erotic set up.

Panchali ran to the balcony to see what the commotion was about. She would have asked her servants for a briefing, but they were all occupied elsewhere. There must be a visitor to the Palace, she mused. Her father’s kingdom was one of the grandest in the land, and was apparently even grander before she was born. They were no strangers to guests and celebrities. 

She was slightly irritated at being sidelined in this manner, but she also welcomed the privacy. She allowed her hips to sway normally as she walked back to her quarters, no longer held back by palace decorum. For as long as she could remember, she felt as if the entire palace had their eyes on her, even while she slept. She was constantly burdened by something incomprehensible, maybe it was expectations, maybe it was family honour - but it felt like something more. Decorum meant that no one would look her in the eye while speaking to her, but she tried to, and would only find a combination of fear and wonder. Not that she had many opportunities to do so, however. Her father had many wives, with many children, but Panchali and her brother seemed to be doomed to being treated differently. At least Dhrishtadyumna could not be shielded from martial training and other necessities for a prince, but Panchali had no escape. Her private lessons were limited to preparing her for marriage to a similarly placed suitor. But if this was her destiny, why was she being treated so - differently?

She moved to the mirror, studying herself. She was different, it was hard to argue otherwise. She was much darker than the rest of her family, even her brother, who was supposed to be her twin. Her eyes were light brown, which made for a unique contrast. Her features were youthfully rounded, but her chiseled features were emerging. Her hair was long and reached the beginning of the slopes of her buttocks. She dropped the silk veil that had been draping the front of her body, covering her exposed navel between her tight cropped blouse and flowy skirt. Her breasts were large for her age and growing as she neared the end of puberty. Her nipples would keep popping erect at any given opportunity and so her handmaids would procure thicker materials to drape over her. She once overheard a younger handmaiden grumble about being sent into the queens wardrobe to procure thicker silks in the heat. “Her body betrays what has been foreseen for her.” Panchali stormed into the corridor to confront the girl - despite all that was done to keep Panchali in check, her fiery temper never resisted an opportunity to burn. The elder matron was ahead of her. “How dare you speak of your princess in this tone”, she said, slapping the girl across the cheek, while also whispering something even more stern, and looking back at Panchali with trepidation. Panchali pondered upon what the girl had said. What has been foreseen for me, she wondered. But she did not want to dignify this impertinent maid with her questions. She regretted the girl being fired from her chambers, if only for the access to this information. Maybe that is why she was so feared. Was she cursed?

She drew a breath at the memory and tried to distract herself by focusing on her nipples, straining against her tight blouse. She hesitated only slightly before pinching one and rubbing her fingers on it. She felt a catch in her throat. She splayed her hands and grabbed her entire breast and kneaded it, rolling her nipple with the palm of her hand, revelling in the feelings it evoked. She opened the buttons of her blouse with her other hand and exposed her cleavage, and then pushed her breast free from the cloth confines. A dark nipple on only slightly lighter skin. She imagined another, stronger hand, caressing the breast, a dark head bending towards it, kissing it, rolling the taut nipple with his tongue...

She gasped as she felt an ache between her legs, but she didn’t stop fondling herself. The ache felt like a burning candle and she visualised it, and felt the molten wax spilling over, along her thigh, in trickles. She had to sit down on a nearby sofa. she spread her legs, touched her insteps and felt the warm arousal coming out of her. She followed its path upwards. What if the commotion was over, what if her entourage returned? She tried to focus on the sounds outside and licked her dry lips as she moved closer to her crotch. It was pulsating, hot and wet. She ran her fingers around her pubic hair and then hesitatingly towards her wet core. She never had an opportunity like this before to inspect herself in a non clinical fashion, particularly when she was this aroused. She began at the part below her navel and moved back, finding a bud in her mound which made her gasp, and it hid, as if startled by her reaction. She couldn’t find it when she traced her finger back and assumed she had imagined it all, until she softened her finger a bit and there it was, playing an enticing game of hide and seek with her. 

She kept one hand massaging her nipples and one hand on her vulva, leaving them to play a sweet tune she never heard before, one she could actually hear, almost like a flute in the distance. She felt the throbbing building up along with a tightness in her chest, and she thought she might explode. Her legs were splayed over the sofa, her skirts hiked up, her breasts gleaming with sweat. Imagine what a sight she was. She froze at the thought of being watched, but relaxed at the knowledge that no one would dare enter her quarters unannounced. At least she hoped, she was far too gone to hold back now. 

And yet the idea of being watched was irresistible. She suddenly conjured an image of dark, almond shaped eyes feasting on her body and shuddered. Her opening throbbed as the orgasm came over her, and she closed her eyes. She squeezed her legs together and felt the stickiness between them. She felt a part of herself restored, along with her self awareness. She heard footsteps approaching and adjusted her clothing.

Her chief of staff announced herself and looked aghast as she entered. “How could they all have left you alone like this?” She exclaimed, “these girls get so carried away with folklore.”

Panchali was for once relieved that few had the authority to maintain eye contact with her. 

“Princess, your presence has been requested in the guest hall for...”

“It will have to wait,” she said, hoping her voice was steady, “had it not been for your excitement over this guest I would have been ready to be presented by now. Draw me a bath, and I shall be ready in an hours time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone privy to information on the inner clothing of the era? Because there will be a lot of that coming off.


	2. The Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Princess receives a visitor whose reputation precedes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon alert

During her bath, her ladies in waiting were filling her in with the details of their guest. It was the Pandava king, Krishna. Panchali had been enamoured by Krishna since her childhood - there were stories of his life, from his miraculous birth to his youth, where several attempts on his life had been foiled under equally mysterious circumstances. As he grew older, the tales were more with regard to his amorous exploits.  
“Every woman in the Yadava clan desired him, and he fulfilled all of their desires,” said one of Panchali’s ladies in waiting.  
“Not just women, men too,” chimed in another.  
The others gasped at such a suggestion. “What? I’m just reporting what I heard!”

Panchali wanted to know more, despite her recent orgasm she felt a warmth pooling between her legs at the thought of two handsome men running their palms on each other’s chests. But she dared not show any interest, she was taught to keep her curiosities to herself.

Besides, the Yadava king was waiting. 

She entered into the hall, where the visitor sat on a throne meant for guests of his standing. He was not sitting formally, however, he had one leg over an armrest, his legs spread as he took in the sight of the princess, who had been dressed in turquoise silks. A shawl covered her breasts which were encased in a blouse now slightly tight for her. 

Panchali was struck by how beautiful Krishna was. Beauty is an attribute mostly used for women, but Krishna was not handsome, he was beautiful, in an androgynous way - sharp features, raised cheekbones, and his almond shaped eyes were outlined with kohl. His lips were thin, and he smiled almost mischievously as she walked. His skin tone was dark, as dark as hers. He swung his leg off the arm of the throne and stood up in a graceful, fluid movement. She almost detected a swing of his hips as he began a slow walk to meet her in the centre of the room. 

There was talk of Krishna having divine attributes, which the chambermaids dismissed as hyperbole. Standing in front of him, he seemed to emanate an aura that was enchanting. 

Panchali’s lips had parted as she stared at him, as if in a trance. He held her gaze, and his face broke into a smile. That snapped her back to reality. And she was now alone with him, her entourage having been dismissed. 

She had never been alone with a man outside her immediate family. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” drawled the visitor. “This is with the acquiescence of your father. I am a long time well wisher and advisor of his, and I told him that I needed to speak with you alone.”

Panchali felt a mix of fear and confusion and lowered her gaze to the floor. 

“We have something rather important to discuss, about your future. And perhaps, our future.”

Panchali gasped. Was the Yadava king here for a proposal of marriage? She remembered the conversations among her chambermaids, gossiping about the numerous wives Krishna had accumulated over the years. Women had written to him, delirious with desire, and he had abducted them as per their will and taken them as wives. But she was no delirious fan girl. She turned up to look at him in the face again.

“Don’t you think you have enough wives already?”, she huffed. 

He stared at her, and furrowed his brow. As Panchali cursed her inability to keen her temper in check, Krishna burst into laughter.

“To answer your question, perhaps I do, perhaps there are more to come.” Panchali’s eyes widened, “but no, young fiery princess, you are not to be one of them.” 

Panchali should have been relieved, but she wasn’t, not completely. A yearning to touch this man, to get lost in his mischievous eyes, was deep inside her. And looking at him, she saw his face change briefly, wistful, if only for a moment. But then he was back to being playful. “A woman like you cannot be one of many queens.”

Panchali rolled her eyes. Polygamy among royalty was an accepted reality - marriages were often transactions to secure kingdoms and loyalty, or to ensure a larger set of suitable heirs. Panchali had no romantic notions of a devoted spouse. “A great King can handle all the queens he takes, and others too.” This was entirely unbecoming of a princess to speak of mistresses and concubines, but she was enjoying testing the waters with this man.

“True,” said Krishna, thoughtfully, “but a good King, a good lover, satisfies them all. The problem is,” and he now started to walk around the princess, “only the satiable can be satiated.”

His eyes were taking in all of her, the swell of her hips, the rise of her breasts - and Panchali suddenly found herself turning red, and her nipples straining against her tight blouse. 

“You are a King, but speaking like this to a young maiden, a princess...is unbecoming” she managed, through clenched teeth. She thought of all the whispers about her in the palace, and her eyes stung with tears.

“Oh no, no princess,” he stopped her circumambulation and stopped in front of her. “There is no need to feel a shame in this truth. You will desire, and be desired, in equal measure. And you will not suffer for it...”

Though others may, he omitted.

“And you are blessed, for that desire deep within you will be quenched.”

She blinked away tears. This wasn’t making it any better. “You continue with your defamatory talk. You may be a King but not here, not in Panchal.” She was back to looking at him in the eyes, her anger was burning as he laughed at her.

“I can see the fire that birthed you quite brightly now.”

There was palace lore that Panchali and her brother were created from a holy fire. Of course that was exaggeration - the King Drupad and his wife held so many yagnas for the birth of a child that this was a nifty fairy tale that was spread among the kingdom. It was also convenient to put fear in the hearts of the Kings enemies. At least that was Panchali’s take on this, how could children simply emerge from fire, instead of being devoured by it?

“That’s a story, just as the ones people say about you,” she challenged.

“Fact and fable are two sides of the same coin,” he replied, “especially while dealing with me.”

She laughed. This conversation was getting ridiculous. 

“You must be delusional, and you remain unchallenged because of your royal status,” she was feeling emboldened now, the heat rising in her face. 

“Am I?”, he seemed to be considering it. “Tell me, young maiden, how you plan to contain the fire that you ignited within yourself.”

“I can keep my temper in check, I am of royal blood.”

“I’m not talking about your temper, my dear.”

She froze. Surely he couldn’t have been referring to her exploration of the morning? 

“Tell me, Princess, have you ever been left alone for so long, in the privacy of your chambers?”

She felt her entire body on edge.

“Your beauty and passion is unrivalled. How could I let that be disturbed?”

Panchali felt her mind was exploding. All her hair was standing on edge. 

“Were you...” 

His lips curved mischievously. “Would you have liked that?”

She looked down sharply. She felt a surge in her cunt, and felt it get damp, so damp she was afraid she was pooling. A tear fell from her eyes in shame. She could not understand her body’s reactions. She couldn’t understand anything, frankly. 

His gaze softened as he saw her shame. He placed a finger gently under her chin, and lifted her face to his. She closed her eyes. 

“Princess, you need not feel shame. Not from me. I know you cannot understand this now, but this is your destiny. To be bound to me, in this manner.”

“Bound?”

“Yes Princess. We - you and I - are bound together, almost as kindred souls. I wasn’t watching you, but I felt you.”

“Did you make me do it?”

His serious face broke into a smile. “I can understand why you think so, but no. That was a sweet coincidence. When I searched for you, not physically, but... I found you, and I felt you, and I wanted you to experience this bliss, uninterrupted.”

“How?” She barely managed a whisper, in wonder.

He chuckled, and removed something from his vest. It was a beautiful flute.

She remembered hearing the music. And she remembered the stories about the young prince driving the Yadava women into trances with the sound of his flute. “So the stories are true.”

“Some of them are,” he admitted. 

“How long have we been...” she trailed. What were they? 

“From always,” he said simply.

He placed her hands in his, and asked her to look into his eyes.

She felt hotter, and hotter, and then realised that she was slowly being engulfed in flames.


	3. The fire within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Princess learns more about her mysterious past, and the future she will play a part in.

She felt hotter, and hotter, and then realised that she was slowly being engulfed in flames. But she looked down, and found that not only was she not burnt, but she was in a different body.

The body of a young girl.

Was this an illusion, a punishment? She began to hyperventilate, and she heard Krishna’s voice. 

“Walk, sweet princess.”

She took a step, and thought she saw a young boy ahead of her, briefly, another illusion. He turned to face her, and then turned in front again and kept walking.

“Keep walking,” she heard Krishna’s voice of encouragement.

She kept walking, and the fires receded. The roars of flames reduced and were replaced a visage of smoke and the sounds of chanting. The smoke cleared and she saw two familiar faces sitting in amazement, staring at her, with a small familiar looking boy sitting in front of them. 

They were her parents. And her brother. The young boy from the flames. 

“This girl will destroy the Kuru clan,” boomed a loud voice.

She turned to see the source of the voice but to her surprise, she was back in the guest hall, still looking into Krishna’s eyes. 

The stories were all true, evidently. She was shaking. The way in which she was treated, her upbringing, the affectionate yet fearful and distant manner in which her parents regarded her, all began to make sense. 

“The audience of this gathering have been sworn to secrecy, obviously, or else your lives would be in danger. Your memory of this was wiped as well.”

He didn’t mention that this was his doing. Before his own birth, the ninth child born of his mother was destined to murder the king Kansa, who happened to be his mother’s brother. Kansa locked his parents up and murdered all their children preemptively, and it was only through divine intervention that a few children survived. He knew a thing or two about the burden of a destructive prophecy on an innocent child. 

“Why would I destroy an entire royal line?” Or how, she wondered, she was just a woman, after all, even if she was born through such an unconventional manner. 

Krishna sighed. “After your father ascended his throne, his best friend from his youth, Drona, came to seek financial assistance. Drona is the greatest teacher of archery, but he was living on alms, his son was being fed flour mixed with water in lieu of milk, terrible things. He thought he could rely on his best friend for assistance, but your father refused to acknowledge him.”

Panchali frowned. Her father could be cruel, apparently. 

“Drona was livid. He went straight to the Kaurava capital and captivated the attention of the young princes. They trained under him, and as a repayment for his teachings, he asked that they capture the city. Drona released the captive King, and forfeited half of his kingdom as punishment for his insolence.”

Panchali couldn’t fault the turn of events.

“Your father was humiliated, and he was catatonic. Anger was the only driving force, and he prayed to the Gods for tools to enable his revenge. For Drona, your brother was born to be his assassin. For the Kuru princes, you were born to destroy them.”

She shuddered, thinking of her brother as a killer. But he was killing just one man, she was to kill an entire family? And there were 100 Kaurava princes! 

“I’m not a killer”

“No one said you were,” he said. 

“But the prophecy...”

“...you will destroy the clan, but you are just one of the pieces of a puzzle waiting to unravel. You will drive men to destruction, you will inspire men to be warriors...” 

Panchali was shaking her head furiously, overwhelmed with this. She had apparently no say in this, she was burdened with this terrible task that she had no reason to believe in. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do any of this,” she cried. “I’m just a girl...a princess,” she emphasised. 

Krishna smiled at her. “In time, it will all become clear.”

She had just about enough of Krishna’s talking in puzzles. Her entire world had been turned upside down and all he had to offer her was patronising bullshit. 

“I have no patience for your games!” She growled, and as Krishna moved towards her she shoved him away with all her strength. 

Krishna grabbed her wrists and spun her so her back was against his chest. She closed her eyes tightly. She had never experienced a man’s touch like this, his arms drew her wrists close to her navel, her own arms touching her breasts, squeezing them together slightly. He began to walk, pushing his hips into her butt, and she was forced to walk ahead of him. Despite her compliance, he was no close to leaving her. 

 

“Look at yourself” he growled, his breath tickling her neck. She opened her eyes. He had stopped in front of one of the large mirrors on the side of the hall. She remembered the events of the morning and wondered if he was punishing her for that.

He let go of her wrists and grabbed her upper arms, still holding him against her. She continued to hold her gaze low. 

“Look at yourself,” he gave her a low shake. 

She saw the two of them, similar in complexion, slammed against each other. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her eyes, which had been lined carefully with kohl, looked wild, with the kohl splayed by her tears. She was panting from the stress of the encounter, which had her breasts heaving up and down. She looked at Krishna in the mirror, and saw him staring at something, his jaw clenched. 

Then she realised he was staring at her. 

And he immediately realised that she was staring at him too. 

“Yes, sweet Princess. Look at yourself.” He sounded hoarse. “You are magnificent.”

He loosened her shawl that was draped across her breasts. It fell to the ground. 

He began to run his palms against her body, not touching it, physically, but the heat of his hands was affecting her. 

“Look at this skin,” he said. 

“It’s a better colour for a man,” said Panchali, trying to distract him.

“It’s the colour of dark passion that our bodies hold,” he said.

She drew her breath in sharply at the mention of ‘our bodies’, the imagery of dusky limbs intertwining. 

“Your hair is black and endless, like the long nights of lovemaking”

She turned her head to look up at him, but he pointed to the mirror.

“Wars will be fought to kiss this lips,” he ran his thumb along her lower lip, and she gasped.

“Sages will be slaughtered to suck these nipples,” he gestured towards her bosom, but to her disappointment, did not touch. Instead his hands ran lower.

“To grab these hips and squeeze this ass is the bounty of the Gods”

She was transfixed. He was a God himself, or something like this, but he was speaking so crassly, it was exhilarating. She never imagined she could see herself from someone else’s eyes, and of all the miracles she was experiencing today, this was possibly the most amazing of them all.

She looked back at the mirror and saw Krishna’s eyes on her, his hands now resting on her hips, gently. And then they slipped lower, to the tops of her thighs. And stopped. She could almost feel the restraint in his hands. 

“What are a 100 princes for a chance to taste this nectar, to die between these legs.”

Her cunt was inflamed, the warm juices flowing along her thighs, her clitoris aching. She was holding her breath, bracing herself for some release. 

“Touch yourself” he commanded.

She swallowed and turned her head towards him. She was a proud woman, but she was on the verge of begging. “Please” she said. She wasn’t sure whether she was asking him to stop, or for something more. He inhaled harshly and looked into her eyes. “I can’t...” his voice trailed. 

“Please”

He placed one hand on her right hand, and with his free hand, he gently lifted her skirts. He pushed her palm towards her sex. “Touch yourself.”

She turned back to the mirror and saw her hand being pushed further and disappearing under her skirts. They had been hiked up high enough to see the first peep of the curls. Krishna dropped his arms to his sides. 

“Touch yourself. I need you to feel this.”

She reached towards the heat. This was nothing like her morning explorations, she was absolutely throbbing with the power of this man’s words alone, he was barely touching her. She felt the wetness, the heat. 

As she touched her clitoris, the feelings that surged through her caused her to buckle backwards. Krishna caught her quickly by holding her to his chest. She felt something foreign against her back, and driven by a strange combination of curiosity and desire, she turned to see the tent in the Yadava king’s silken dhoti, and looked up to his face in genuine surprise. 

He smiled, and perhaps blushed as well. “I am only human, Princess.”

She sight of his erection thrilled her, emboldened her. She looked up to see his face, and she was no longer the slightly unwilling princess. She had never seen a man’s desire before, but she knew what it meant. She took a sudden and rash decision to see how far this would go. 

“You didn’t watch me this morning” she whispered.

“No princess,” he said, his voice slow and assuring.

“Why not?”

“It would be wrong to watch you without your knowledge, not in such an intimate moment.”

She took in a deep breath to steady herself. “And now?”

He smiled and shook his head in a question. In response, she slowly turned to face herself in the mirror again, and looked into his eyes through the reflection. 

She reached down with one hand and lifted her skirts again, on her own. She watched Krishna in the mirror, holding his gaze. Her right hand slipped under her skirts, and she began massaging her clitoris again. The feeling sent tingles through her body, but she steadied herself, trying to see how this man God would react. 

Krishna’s eyes were widening, and he gently licked his lips. The massaging was harder now, her toes were curling and her loins were throbbing. She whimpered, and then howled as her entire body burned for release. She was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open but she had to, she had to fixate on this man, whose eyes were blazing as he watched her face contorting in absolute rapture. 

She let out a primal moan as she orgasmed. Krishna held her close to him as she rode out the last waves of her ecstasy. 

“My fiery Princess”, said Krishna, after a significant display of speechlessness. She looked up at him. Shimmering beads of sweat lined his brow and the bridge of his sharp nose, and his eyes were twinkling.

She covered herself with her scarf and straightened her clothes. As her orgasm wore off, she became more self conscious. She didn’t know what she expected from him after watching her, but she felt disappointment. She stepped away and turned to leave the hall. 

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his embrace.

“One day you will understand why I had to restrain myself, Princess,” he groaned. “Your beauty is plain for all to see, but what lifts you above other women is your burning sexuality. It provokes the basal instincts of mortal men...and perhaps the immortal as well,” he pulled away from her slightly. “You will thrive with it, but it may put you in harm’s way. Many men will try and possess you, but that is not the capacity of any one man.”

She narrowed her brows. “Not even my husband?”

“That is not your destiny.” 

She pondered this. “Will I not marry?”

“Well, I think your father would object to such an idea, after all, I am here speaking to you of your marriage with your father’s consent. How else would we get such a private audience?”

She sighed. Apparently the man was incapable of answering straight.

“Now, today has been a very taxing day for you. I suggest you return, and rest. I am going to tell your family that you have to conduct a small ceremony in private every day to honour the boons that you received in your previous incarnation towards your marriage. This will ensure that you have the privacy you need.”

She burst out laughing. “That is quite an elaborate made up story.”

“As I said Princess, fact and fable are two sides of the same coin. Now, I will go and see your father.”

The Princess was greeted by her entourage outside, teeming with curiosity on the wise teachings of the Yadava king.


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A release fit for a King

Krishna was no stranger to modifying the truth to his own purposes, and spinning a tale for Drupada, the king of Panchal, was hardly tedious. The King was quite easily led to leave Krishna alone with his daughter to discuss her future. It was for opportunities like this that he never contradicted the stories that emerged about his life, and his previous incarnations. He finished the briefing, and left the king with words of encouragement. He began the walk towards the guest chambers, where he and his entourage had been invited to stay the night.

He had meant to exchange pleasantries with the Princess and give her confidence and strength for the difficult journey that would be ahead of her. She was, after all, burdened with glorious purpose, and endowed with a fire that would create, preserve and destroy much of that which was around them. He was not lying about the bond that they had, he had a bond with all those who were of divine origin, and with some this bond was stronger than with others. 

When she was born, the Princess was also called Krishnaa, for her dark skin. She, like him, had a role to play in the coming events. The destiny was not set in stone, at least not apparently to Krishna. He could see some of it, like a skeleton, but the flesh and blood revealed itself only in the moment, often to his own amazement. Even if he was a God, that didn’t mean that he was incapable of wonder. 

It also did not mean that he was going to be irresponsible with his ability to “check in” on those with whom he had a link. In any case, there were men whose lives were constantly under threat, including his own cousins, who took up most of his attention. Panchali was not exactly a priority.

Apparently, he had underestimated her. Terribly so. 

—

As he looked at the welcoming committee, he searched for the fabled dark beauty among the faces of the princes and their wives. He felt a disappointment at her absence, and his sub conscience was travelling in search of her, unbridled by the need to make polite small talk. He found her, her shawl pooled at her feet, staring at herself in the mirror. Her lips were slightly parted, her nipples straining against her top. Her skirt hung low, below her slightly curved belly, and flared at her hips. The sight was incredible, his entire attention swung to Panchali’s royal chambers to take in this sight. He could hear the voice of the King speaking to him as he saw the Princess timidly touch her breast from outside her blouse, and slowly splay her hands. He saw her draw her breath in arousal and found himself constricted to breathe. 

“My lord, the crown prince asks if your journey was comfortable”, the female voice snapped him back to his physical being. 

He turned to see his wife, Rukmini, eyeing him amusedly. 

Had it not been for his dark complexion, the entire Royal family would have been privy to Krishna blushing till the tips of his ears. He couldn’t hide from Rukmini though. She was already wondering what could have diverted his attention so. Her dimples puckered as she realised who was missing from the gathering.

“I don’t see Princess Panchali,” she said, looking back at the King.

“We need not trouble her,” said Krishna. Rukmini turned to look at her husband, and twisted her mouth. She was obviously teasing him now. 

The King frowned. “Where is she? Send her chambermaids to ready her!”

Krishna felt the rising desire within Panchali and his heart wrenched at the possibility of interrupting her. He pulled out his flute. 

“I’m in no hurry. It’s a beautiful day, and I am inspired to play you a tune to thank you for your hospitality.”

—-

Krishna was used to women with strong opinions who knew exactly what they wanted. Rukmini had invited him to abduct her from her wedding ceremony with the most lascivious letter, speaking of her longing for him. He could barely finish reading before summoning a chariot to make a daring intervention in the proceedings. When alone, his new bride was comparatively shy, but in just a short time she blossomed into a feisty lover. But more important to him was her acceptance of him, as he was. As an incarnation of the divine, he had more flaws than mere mortals. Her humour kept his arrogance in check. She made her peace with the idea that she would never be able to have Krishna only to herself, even before she wrote to him as an infatuated young lady. He was never unfaithful to her, for their understanding of faith between themselves was wider than the idea of body fidelity. They completed each other in the most fundamental way. 

But Panchali, in the flesh, her eyes blazing before him, chiding him for his insolence, was an experience just to observe as a fly on the wall. Her beauty, her anger, her unfettered expressions changing from rage to scepticism to wonder to ecstasy.

Even Krishna found it difficult to stifle his mortal reaction to the memory of her pinned against him, in front of the mirror. He quickened his steps towards the chambers, nodding almost curtly to the nobility greeting him. 

Krishna was used to his audience being malleable to his monologues. Being challenged by Panchali was almost refreshing, until it provoked him. He was not the God of patience, clearly. But when he touched her, when he put his arms around her, smelt her arousal, he fought against all his basal instincts to push her to the floor, hike up her skirt and feast on her cunt. But he had to maintain the facade of control, that is, until Panchali discovered his arousal.

The impish smile that appeared on her face after the initial shock receded. Her sudden confidence. The way in which she hitched her skirts up, holding his gaze, giving him a glimpse of the sight he had restrained himself from. The way in which her feather touches gave way to frenzied rubbing. Her mouth open and bosom heaving from the release.

He charged into Rukmini’s chambers, commanding her ladies to leave the room at once.

—

The door barely closed behind him as he lunged for Rukmini, capturing her tongue with a passionate kiss, squeezing her ass as he grinded her close to his erection.

“I see you’ve brought your thirst for another woman into my chambers,” she laughed. 

He stopped, and looked into her eyes. Rukmini was immensely desirable, but yes, his erection had a darker inspiration. He tried to say something, but she put her finger on his lips.

“I don’t need to hear your lies.”

He licked his lips. “But I’m here now.”

“Are you?” She said, walking back a few steps. She dropped her saree from her shoulder. Rukmini was a curvaceous woman, with skin the colour of cream. Her belly hung, slightly, over the knot of her saree, which her fingers toyed with.

Krishna swallowed hard.

“Are you?”

The saree pooled at her feet. She was naked below her waist.

“Answer me,” she commanded.

He tore his bottom off in a fluid movement. His erection stood stiff, and his precum glistened. His taut, dark body was entirely on display.

“Are you?”

He rushed towards her and lifted her off the ground, wrapping her soft thighs around his hips. He pushed her against the wall and pushed himself deep into her. She was slick with desire. 

“You tell me, am I?” He hissed.

She moaned. He pushed deeper and buried his face into her cleavage. 

“Is this how you wanted to fuck the Princess?”

He laughed and squeezed her love handles. “This is no way to deflower a virgin,” he said, pushing deeper into her for emphasis. 

“Oh, so you were thinking about it,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

“Thinking was as far as I could go,” he said. “Drupada wouldn’t appreciate me... fucking his daughter out of wedlock”  
Rukmini squeezed her cunt and Krishna cursed, increasing the pace of his strokes, now nearly hitting her cervix. He was kneading her ample butt cheeks and felt her wetness rolling down his thighs. Spreading his fingers, he squeezed his smallest finger into her asshole. He rubbed against his own thrusting erection against her wall, which was sent her over the edge. 

The contractions of her vagina induced his own climax. He sank to his knees, bringing her down with him, and she straddled him as he spasmed into her. 

He heard his wife’s laughter as he opened his eyes.

“You are such a horny fuck.”

He reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“And you are terribly overdressed.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been reading multiple versions of the Mahabharata since I was a child, but recently I read Chitra Bannerjee’s ‘Palace of Illusions’ which is a sort of retelling of the epic from the perspective of Draupadi.


End file.
